Bride For A Bridge
by prematurelyelderly
Summary: What would have happened if Robb had kept his promise?
1. Chapter 1

So this is just my take on how the events may have been different he Robb had married a Frey. I decided to do an OC instead of Roslin so that I had more control over the character. Anyway enjoy!

Chapter One:

I leaned my head against the stones, staring deep into the fire. I was still in my day dress, despite the late hour, and I wondered nonchalantly if my skirts were in danger of catching fire. I had nearly forgotten about what I had was supposed to be doing, until a chill swept through me. I turned back to the chair and picked up the winter cloak that I had been re-hemming; a hand-me-down from the last winter.

I stared at the cloak, the heavy wool, and wondered not for the first time if it would keep me warm in the north.

I had assumed it would be Roslin- she was beautiful, and the eldest of us two. She was sociable, and agreeable. Though not stupid, I knew she looked forward to a betrothal and marrying a handsome lord and living in a keep. She listened to the songs, and I think deep down believe them.

I did not. Though I was not as ugly as the Frey name conveyed, I knew what I was- no handsome lords would come to the Twins seeking a beautiful bride. I knew, too, what my father was. And my father was a lecherous old man, who saw no value in any of children, least of all his daughters. And I didn't believe those songs.

I hadn't even been present when Lady Stark came to us all that time ago. I had instead been binding a broken book back together. The needle had slipped and came right into my hand. Busy with the Maester's attention, I figured she would not miss me among my numerous siblings.

So when I had heard what Father demanded, I was surprised to learn that Starks had accepted it. One of us, for a bridge?

But I didn't fear, or fret. We all knew it would be Roslin. And though she was frightened at leaving at the Riverlands for the North, I couldn't help but think that this was something she would like- a Lord, a house of good reputation. I had patted her hand and smiled, though I knew deep down this meant that I would be next. I felt that it would still be quite some time before I was sold off, though, so I simply didn't think so much about it.

Until two weeks ago, when my father called me to him. I had been sitting on a window sill, gazing out into the tumultuous river, when one of my bastard sisters gently broke me out of my reverie. "Onora?" Her sharp features were solemn. "Your father wishes to speak with you."

I made my way into his offices, where he sat slouched and gnarled like a tree. He regarded me passively, chewing on something. Finally he took a raspy breath and spoke.

"The King of the North is on his way"

I stared quizzically at my father, unsure, and growing uneasy.

"I thought he might be thinking of breaking his oath, and seeing how this fighting has dragged on, offered to let him marry sooner rather than later. He's accepted and offered another betrothal to Edmure Tully in exchange for some more of your worthless brothers and the men at arms. So, one of you will marry Stark, the other the Tully."

I stood straight, my eyes staring just slightly below level, maintaining my composure, as I had learned to do for so many years. But inside I was apprehensive.

Father leaned forward. "You deaf, girl?"

My temper flared, but I resisted the urge to snap back. "I heard you, father. I expect that the King will wish to chose his bride."

He snorted. "I don't care what the boy wants. The two weddings will take place the night he arrives. I've already picked both the brides."

My heart had stuck in my throat. I had never though of my betrothal in real terms before that moment. I was fair enough, but no one wanted to marry a Frey. I thought I would be married off to some ageing river lord who would hopefully be gentle and tired.

Edmure Tully I suppose was not too far from that. He was supposed to be handsome enough, but something of a fool. I could endure that marriage, but I had not ever considered being placed into the care of such a noble and well respected house. Would I be disdained for my fathers constant antagonist behavior?

Though when I considered the other option, I suddenly found Edmure Tully very attractive indeed.

To be married to Robb Stark was profoundly frightening. I didn't even have the faintest idea what he looked like, but I could picture something frightening. The Young Wolf- undefeated in battle, fierce and violent. The one who started this whole war. They said he was followed by a great dire wolf who bit off people's arms and ate fallen soldiers in battle. Northmen were rough and harsh, like the land they lived in.

And to live in that land- cold and barren, full of all the terrifying stories our nurses had told us.

Yes, I thought, I could be a Tully's wife.

My father sat, regarding me. I had kept my face carefully blank, and he seemed to be rather pleased with the lack of emotion.

"Your sister Roslin…"I brathed a sigh of relief, inwardly, thinking he was about to tell be he would give my sister to Robb. She was a head taller, and amicability was perhaps a trait desired in a queen. "…will marry Edmure."

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach, and stared down at the floor as my Father spoke the words I already knew. "And you will marry Robb Stark."

"Why?" I couldn't help but blurt it out. "Why me?"

"Well, who else?" he grumbled. "Can't very well give a king an ugly bride."

"What of Roslin?" I all but begged. "Have you spoken with her? Roslin would _want_ to be a queen-"

"I've never cared what you twits want" he laughed as he said it. "Why start now?"

I pawed at my skirt, desperate. "I'm not fit" I protested, my voice high.

"I promise, the King will make you fit. "

My face twisted in disgust. "I don't want to marry him. Roslin should-"

"Roslin is marrying Edmure. You, the little bother you are, are going with the Young Wolf." He furrowed his brow at me.

"I don't want to." I felt my voice shake with rage. "I won't. You have daughters enough- send Lothar in a dress for all I care, I don't need to go to Winterfell, nor yet be a violent rebels wife."

"You will do as your told. You've always been a frigid bitch, the north should suit you. Now shut your mouth and do as your told."

"Why can't it wait until the fighting is over?" I plead

"Because the King has been tasting the honey of a Valerian in his company, and nearly broke faith with me. I don't trust Roslin to make sure the little Stark boy puts a baby in her."

My father walked towards me, looking me up and down. "You're stubborn, and not stupid. You know what this marriage would mean. So you will do as your told."

He started to walk past me, and in a panic I said all I could think of.

"You'll not talk to me about faith when your bride is younger than I!"

I knew I had gone too far when I said it. The message was driven home by my father's hand across cheek.

"You will keep your legs open, and your mouth shut. "He stared at me with those cold, flat eyes. "Now get out, and go warble on to someone else. I've heard enough."

I stared after the crooked old man, cupping my stinging face, a roar in my ears.

I stumbled to my bedchamber, a panicked alarm sounding in my head. I sat in the corner, my head in my hands…waiting for something. Tears, bile, anything. But all that came was the sobering, unsettling thought;

 _Within the Fortnight, you will be married to the King of the North._

That had been nearly 4 days ago. The time after that had been a blur of packing, preparing, and hurrying along only to find that there was nothing to do but wait. We had power and money enough for servants who seemed more than happy to do most of the work for us. I suppose I was far better to serve than my harsh and crass father. I found myself attempting to stay confined to my favorite places in the Twins, to the places I knew I would ache for later. Often I found myself in the library- in disrepair and misuse though it was, I had always found solace there. The Twins were littered with children, and at least half of them were cruel and even violent. Father didn't even bother to try and keep track of us all, so I found myself hiding somewhere I knew my swaggering brothers would never be; a room full of books.

Though more and more I felt drawn to shut myself up in my room. It wasn't just the unkind teasing of my brothers- my sisters were all delighted for me, and I felt I couldn't disclose how much I didn't want the union, but pretending to be happy was exhausting.

I would be queen, yes, and I would have to leave everything familiar to go to the cold and frightening North. Not even the North, I reminded myself. First on the road, in battle. Father had said he had no plans to let Roslin and I linger in the Twins. And I would be married to a man with a reputation for intensity and war. Not to mention the rumors.

We had all heard them- Robb Stark had taken up with a women on the road, and had nearly married her, before being talked out of it by his mother.

I knew what our marriage was- a bride for a bridge. I had known that my marriage would probably be some sort of arrangement- I was the daughter of a lord. Marrying for love was a thing of fancy for me.

Nor did I mind if my husband had taken women before me. The lewdness of my father had left me no confusion on the desires of men, or women. Though a virgin myself, I thought it was perhaps best if one of us knew what to do. I was apprehensive of what was to come the night of our wedding, to say the least; but my older sisters had assured me it was not so bad, as long as he was gentle. I was not sure that I believed them, and to be honest with myself my stomach knotted uncomfortably at the idea of being naked with a man I had never met. I had seen the white faces and unblinking eyes of my fathers many wives the morning after. In my mind, a courtship would at least have helped, and been customary.

But the idea of marrying a man who wished to marry another- that made everything inside of me freeze. Would he resent me? Would he be cruel to me? Would he dishonor me? I knew that wearing the sigil of a Frey was bad enough- to have my husband indiscreetly break vows with me would be humiliation.

I set down the sewing, tears suddenly welling in my eyes. I wished desperately that I had been born a man. I would rather face a sword than face a betrothal like this. I turned to my bed, and let myself be miserable alone in my own bed. After all, I thought, a sob welling up in my throat, in just a few nights I'd have to share my bed with the man I was crying about.


	2. Chapter 2

So this is my first Fanfic ever, and so if there is something I'm not doing right, let a girl know. Also, I'm a very busy student so updates will be sporadic if anyone actually like this.

This wedding scene was uncomfortable to write so it might be uncomfortable to read. insert trigger warning of two people having sex with each that don't really want to be doing it.

Anyway, feedback is appreciated!

Chapter Two:

The host arrived a few days later, held up by the rain. My favorite handmaid, Reyna, a plump older woman lacking a few teeth in her wide, gummy smile, was charged with dressing me for the wedding. Apparently, that meant pulling a corset as tight as it would go.

I gasped. "Reyna, please, I need to breathe!"

"Aye, milady, but milord did say that ye ought to look fair as ye might."

"Ah yes. I believe what he said was to make sure the King could see that not all of his daughters were ugly sows." I said disgustedly, remembering the hurt look on sweet Gretchen's face when he said that.

Reyna shrugged, undeterred by my attitude. "Well, ain you certainly are not a ugly sow, milady."

I looked in the mirror. Without the cap, you could see my chesnut hair, the formed into soft curls as it fell. Reyna had pulled the front pieces pinned away from my face. I had been given wedding the dress of an older sister, taken to emphasis my tiny waist and slight curves. I touched the blue wave embroidery on the skirt. The blue was a nice choice, I had to admit. It made the soft wet brown in my eyes seem warmer, and my lashes darker, turning what I was sure was a frightened stare into a simply wide eyed gaze.

"No," I breathed, smoothing my skirt. "I suppose I'm not."

And when I was summoned to be presented, I wished I was.

I stood in a corridor alone, wearing a veil in Frey tradition. My father hobbled over to me, and took my arm. I bit my lip to stop myself from begging him once more to call this off. To plead with him, as a father, _please, don't send me away._

But I knew those pleas would fall on deaf ears, and we started to walk forward.

Due to the veil, I couldn't properly see ahead of me. I saw the figure of the man I was to marry standing by the plump figure of the septon, and when we finally reached him, and my father lifted my veil, I took a good look at Robb Stark.

He was handsome, tall, straight bodied, a dark beard and equally dark curls. Perhaps I should have been delighted, and part of me was relived that at least he was not the wildling I had pictured. But his face was stern and fierce, his eyes like steel. _Young Wolf._ I did see the resemblance.

Robb Stark, King in the North, stared down at me, his face unreadable.

I remembered what I had been instructed to do, and knelt before him shakily.

"Your Grace," I spoke clearer than I expected.

Large, calloused hands reached down to pull me up. His face was broken by an encouraging smile, but his eyes were still aloof.

"My lady, " he said softly, but loud enough for the hall to hear.

I registered the Septon's voice, and the King put his cloak around me, I stared at him again, unsure, before we both turned to the Septon to be married

Roslin and Edmure married immediately after us, and then we all went to a lively reception. All four of the Newlyweds, and my father and his wife were crowded into the table at the front of the hall. Edmure and my sister chatted away, clearly enamored with one another. Robb and I were far quieter, murmuring apologies with one another when out arms bumped. I looked over at Roslin again, as she was feeding Edmure blackberries and laughing heartily. I felt very alone, in that moment, and stared down at my plate.

I heard my new husband clear his throat, and his hand came to rest on mine. I looked up into his blue eyes and again noted that at least he was handsome.

His mind apparently was in the same place, as he said in a deep northern accent. "You look very lovely."

I smiled at him, poised, but attempting to be warm. "Thank you, your grace."

He pulled his hand away as a servant girl came through with the pitcher of wine. Picking up the now full goblet, he raised it to me with a cocked eyebrow, but said nothing. I raised my glass as well, and drank the sour wine in large gulps. I didn't know much, but I knew I could fulfill my wifely duties drunk, and that I may prefer it. I looked out into the hall, seeing who I had gathered was Lady Stark seated on one of the front benches, laughing with an older man.

"I see your mother is enjoying the wedding," I said, turning slightly.

"Yes,I suppose she is." There was a certain bitterness in his voice that I had no desire to press.

"And what of you, wife? Are you enjoying yourself?" The bitterness was not entirely gone, and I found it almost insulting. Before I could say something too bold, though, I reminded myself; _bride for a bridge._

"Yes," I replied, but couldn't stop myself from adding. "As much as I might. It was all rather rushed- I only knew I would be marrying a week ago.

Robb Stark looked at me with surprise, "I made the arrangement with your father nearly a year ago."

"Aye, " I said, taking another large gulp of wine. "But no one told me I was the bride that was promised." I looked up at my new husband, and held his eyes for a moment before we both looked back down.

"I suppose this is all very strange for you, then." I nodded heartily, again accompanying my response with more wine.

"Your Grace," my father's gravely voice drawled. "I trust you find that my daughter is a suitable bride?"

Robb Stark stood up beside me, addressing my father. "Aye, Lord Frey. A beautiful bride if there ever was one. I thank you for your generosity. I am certain I have a wonderful Queen now by my side." His words were sweet, but his voice ceremonial.

Father's barked laughter made me cringe. "Well, you're not man and wife yet. I believe a bedding is in order." He gave a leery grin to the crowd, and the chanting made me feel rather sick. Or maybe that was all the wine. I saw Lady Stark eyeing me with deep sympathy as Robb nodded and the men clamored around me, already pulling at my clothes and lifting me into the air. Luckily, with the drunken mob split between two women, they had only managed to get down to my shift before we were at the chamber door, and I was quickly pulled in by my husband, shutting the door behind me. The door muted the drunken cheers that slowly dissipated. I had shuffled away from the King. Resolving that I would not cry or whimper, but that I didn't have to pretended to like it, I stared at Robb Stark's bare back. He was a large, muscled man, and I found myself wondering if all of him was that large. Having less layers to remove, the ladies had done a fairer job on him, his breeches hanging loose on his hips, apparently untied.

He turned around slowly, and though I only flicked my eyes down for a second, I could see that his breeches were indeed untied.

He regarded me, taking in my expression, and I noticed, my barely concealed form beneath the shift.

Finally, he spoke. "You don't need to be afraid of me."

I took a deep breath to steady myself. "I'm not." That was mostly a lie.

It became more of a lie when Robb pushed his breeches down, and I had the courage to look at him. Feet, calves, thighs…

I suddenly felt woefully unprepared.

He came toward me, until he was directly in front of me and I could feel his breath on me. "I'll be very gentle" He murmured, and his hands went to the strings holding my shift. My breath hitched, and I felt him stroke my shoulders in an attempt to soothe me, before pushing my shift off and onto the ground.

I closed my eyes, feeling so exposed to this man I had met mere hours ago. He placed on burning hot hand on my waist, and used the other to title my chin up, and then cup my cheek as he bent his head to kiss me.

His mouth was soft, and warm, and had I not been so frightened of what was to come I may have even liked it. But my stomach knotted uncomfortably and I willed myself to stay calm.

He pulled away, and looked down at me, searching my face. I felt as though I should acknowledge him in some way, but my head was swirling with fear and anticipation. Finally, I thought of something to say.

"Am I…to your satisfaction…your grace?" I haltingly spoke, unsure and uncomfortable.

"Yes," he replied, his voice low and heavy. "You are very pleasing." He stepped away and behind me, and I was reminded of a prey being circled. He gently urged me toward the bed. "Go lie down."

I stumbled toward the large bed, laid with blankets and furs. I sat on the bed rather than lying, thinking I would look like a corpse, I felt so stiff. I loosely hugged my knees, staring at the white of the bed sheets, and wondering how much longer they would stay white.

I heard my husband approach, and saw him sit down in front of my feet. I raised my eyes to meet his, unsure of what to do.

He seemed to understand. He gently put a hand between my knees, and I felt something shoot through me. He spread my knees apart, exposing the most intimate part of me to him, and the cold air. A firm pressure on my collarbone told me to lay back , and he slowly shifted until he was between my legs. His face came into my view, looking intently at me, his eyes determined and heavy with some emotion akin to hunger. He started to stroke my hair, and murmured something that I couldn't hear in a soothing voice. _He's treating me like a spooked horse_ I thought, and then decided that was not the worse thing in the world.

The hand that wasn't occupied with my hair had started to drift over my body- my waist, shoulder, collarbone. Robb looked down at his roaming hand when it reached my breast, gently cupping and running a thumb over the tip. I gasped at the sensation there, and felt my body tense. I couldn't tell if it physically felt good or not, because my mind screamed at me to end this strange behavior. Then his hand slid suddenly over my stomach until I felt him cup that soft place between my legs. I nearly smacked my head against the headboard when I jerked up and away from him, but he firmly caught and pulled me back down to him. His imploring fingers parted the folds there and relentless caressed and pinched. Overwhelmed, and convinced that this was not part of the normal proceedings, I reached down and grabbed his wrist, pushing away.

He surprisingly pushed back, slipped part of a digit in me, Tense and relatively dry, it barley got in. I squirmed and made a noise of protest before a hand between my breasts stilled me. He was looking at me again.

"It won't…"He started, hesitating. "If you don't relax, it will be worse." His voice was kind, but the words were ominous, and I nodded and tried to will my body to unclench.

Robb began kissing my neck, his whiskers and hot breath against my skin. He went up, eventually meeting my mouth, placing a soft warm, wet kiss. He lingered there, still rubbing between my legs, where I felt a building warmth that still couldn't settle my stomach. He suddenly moved away from me, and when I glanced down I saw to my dismay that he had somehow grown larger. Licking his hand, he spread his spit into my folds, shocking me, and then did the same to his member. He put a hand behind my head, and used to other to settle himself between my legs. He ran a thumb over my cheek, and kissed my forehead. I was momentarily distracted by that rather sweet gesture, but then he began to push his hardness into me.

I tried desperately to relax, but it was difficult. It hurt, badly, as he entered me inch by inch. I groaned in pain despite myself, and he moved his mouth to mine to muffle the sound.

He stilled for a moment, after he had put his whole self inside me, and then began to gently rock his hips back and forth. That hurt even worse, and I bit my lip to keep myself from protesting.

His breath was ragged and hot against my face and neck, his head bent low. After a few moments, he reached down between us to adjust himself. I fought the urge to groan in protest when he moved my hips and the motion let him slip a few more inches into me.

He then set his hand on my waist, and I felt that it was wet. I looked down and saw blood smeared on my skin from his palm.

I suddenly felt sick seeing that, and felt the disgust rise in my throat. I was naked, exposed, having a fierce stranger inside of me- a stranger who I knew cared nothing for me, and who was not at all phased by the sight of blood. As he pushed into me again and my body reluctantly gave, I felt sob try to escape from my chest. I bit on my lip so hard I tasted blood to keep that sound at bay, but couldn't stop the hot tears from welling up and pushing me over. I turned my face sway, wanting desperately to preserve what little dignity I had left.

I felt him stop suddenly, though he did not pull out. I turned my head to see Blue eyes intently gaze down at me, and his hand roughly brushed some of the tears away. I swallowed hard at his touch, and tried to stop the tears. But when he moved in me again, this time looking down at me, I couldn't stop my face from twisting in pain.

"I'm sorry," He said, sweat on his brow. "I'm not meaning to hurt you." There was remorse in his voice, and a strange softness in his face. I preferred it to the aloofness I had seen earlier.

"I know," I managed to choke out, desperately holding back tears. "Just finish, please."

He regarded me carefully, then nodded. He placed one hand on my lower back, raising my hips to him, and wrapped the other around my shoulders, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

And with that he began to thrust in earnest, hard and quickly. I felt his skin smack into mine, and felt as though he was tearing me apart with every push in. I kept my face turned away, whimpering, my hands against him, though not having the strength in me to push against him, knowing that protest was useless. He gripped my arm suddenly, and I could tell it bruised. In fact, I thought I'd have bruises all over, as he roughly pawed at my breast and nipped at my neck. The pain in my legs dulled after few minutes and I let myself rest my hands on his waist, and stopped my weeping, trying to view all of this as though it was happening to someone else. _He'll finish eventually._ It felt like it took years though, until I thought to wrap my legs around him. That reignited the pain between my legs, but within a few thrusts I felt him shudder, and heard a short, loud grunt from above, and then there was a sudden warm wetness inside me.

The King fell silent, the only sound still filling the room being my sniffling.

He finally pulled out of me, my body relived. He touched my wet cheek, less a loving caress, and more a pat to let me know that it was over, and I had made it. I rolled onto my side, pulling the furs over my naked body. I felt my husband, after a time, lie down, not touching me, for which I was grateful.

I felt so deeply sad and vulnerable I was surprised that I began falling asleep almost immediately. I let my eyes flutter shut, listening to the breathing of a stranger beside me. The last thing I remembered was the candle being blown out.


End file.
